


Two of a kind;

by eus



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe — End of All Hope, Basically, Gen, POV Alternating, also
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-17 09:11:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1381930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eus/pseuds/eus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe that's what they were.<br/>Maybe they just had each other left.<br/>And maybe, maybe they were just relieved that there still was someone out there, someone to understand.</p><p>[EreAni Week entry. Prompt: Monster.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two of a kind;

**Author's Note:**

> warnings: in the end notes.

Here he was (standing on his own two feet at the edge of the world).

Whether “his” or “their” world, you’re not really sure — just, _not yours._

You can see his eyes. Sea-coloured orbs staring at their infinite version, licking the still cold sand.

And that’s how he should’ve felt; Infinite. (But you've long since learned that with him, nothing ever came out as expected.)

 

You can see his dark brown locks — and maybe, maybe their colour reminds you of another, something to do with that strong black chocolate people used to savour centuries ago, and that some wealthy families still can afford. But oh, dear! how could you know about this? It's not like there ever was a way for you to come across anything of the like; such a luxury.

(The only flavour left on your taste buds is the one of blood; the only warmth you’ve ever known — tentative, wronged camaraderie shared with people all dead — is long gone.

You never really knew softness; you never really knew anything that could feel the least bit like chocolate.  _Really, how could you compare?_

So it’s just his “mop of plain dark-brown hair” instead _(your words’ll never do it justice. You’ll never do_ him _justice)_ messed with by the hurling wind.)

 

You can see his limbs frozen into a flawless salute, chin tilted up, fiery as ever.

What you can’t see is the emptiness in his eyes (and it’s just so strange, they always were so vivid, alive and - ablaze, lit up by what you had always known to be a frightening willpower) or the coldness of his stare as he glares at the waves crashing against the cliff; you can’t see the arm over his heart tremble; you can’t see him clench and unclench his other fist, knuckles turned white ; you can’t even see his signature furrowed brows.

 

You’re way too far to see.

(It’s been way too long.)

It’s time, you know.

 

_(But do you really want to get out?)_

 

* * *

 

 

You entertain the idea of sitting down.

Except, do you really?

Maybe you’re fine standing here like this.

 

“Maybe.”

 

Will you ever move? It feels like you’re stuck here, in another time and space. Something - paralel, a bit crooked, a bit distorded.

_Did it really happen?_

You don’t sit down; you don’t drop on your knees, nor do you end up on the ground.

(Like you did so many times back then.)

 

Because there’s no one to put you down. There’s no one to surpass you. No one to fight you. There’s _no one_ anymore.

It just feels so empty. (You just feel so hollow.)

 

You're here.  _How long has it been?_

 

There’s an aftertaste of millenniums on your tongue, and it’s like copper on your gums.

(Four days.)

 

You take one step towards the edge of the cliff.

One more.

One more.

One last. (You’ve closed your eyes.

You can’t hear the sound of crushing waves; it’s like the tide’s holding its breath.

You hit the ground.)

[…]

You don’t sit down. You don’t drop on your knees.

Because you’re not able to break anymore. You’re not _able_ to be broken.

You’re not able to die because you’re not able to kill yourself.

(This, was the first time of your life you really gave in to such emotions.

It’s also the first time of your life you really gave up something. There's a void right next to your heart.)

 

You turn your back to the ocean.

You walk away. You walk; past the sea of corpses starting to rot; spot a raven head styled in an undercut. And from afar, it could have been mistaken for your Captain, had he not been murdered in Sina two years ago.

(At least he had a proper funeral,

you released the last of his ashes in the water when you first got to the shore.)

(You keep walking.)

(For these are not your friends; these are but cadavers. Dead meat, left for the gulls to eat.

There’s nothing left of them.)

_(You keep walking.)_

Towards the only thing left.

 

* * *

 

 

You think you just — but no, _impossible_. No one came here since the fall of Sina. Not that you saw Sina fall, it just made so damn much noise underground.

You had to hear it all; but it’s been quiet since.

 _But then_ , there are footsteps (and you think it’s just another product of your dazed imagination).

 

But then, he’s here, right before you.

 

You don’t remember doing it: you’ve opened your eyes.

(You haven't seen him since you transferred to the Military Police. He’s changed. He’s 28, looks 20. Like everything else, the child he used to be is long gone: it’s no longer the Eren you sparred with, the Eren who looked up to you, the Eren who swore to get rid of all the Titans.)

 

When you finally make eye-contact, it’s to see pupils belonging to someone who saw and did the same things you did (who knows the same things you do).

There’s an equal standing in front of you.

And when he lifts his hand up to the crystal on your cheek, you let it fade away to lean into his touch, eyelids closed.

When they shot open again, it’s to be pulled to his chest and hear his voice — hoarse from the lack of use.

“Seems like we were both monsters in the end, right, Annie?”

Tiny, tiny, crooked smile cracking your lips, you embrace him back.

**Author's Note:**

> w: suicide attempt & shitty english  
> line breaks are for POV changes, and it goes annie—eren—annie 
> 
> 01/17: it's so weird to read this again i've never written anything after this what the fuck even


End file.
